Mystery: Gray Walker

Chapter 78 Outsiders

When Green and Irwin returned to the banquet hall, the scene before them made their hearts sink.

The once lively scene of elegantly dressed women and clinking glasses has become mostly deserted.

The crystal chandelier was still bright, but it reflected the much emptier dance floor and the scattered crowd.

A subtle, uneasy restlessness lingered in the air, amidst the lingering scents of perfume, alcohol, and food.

The butler, who had always maintained a polite smile and oversaw the entire process, was nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to stop Olivier.

Viscount Linus himself stood on a small stage in the center of the hall, holding a glass of champagne, a mixture of excitement and mystery on his face, and loudly proclaimed:

"...Thank you all for your presence and support tonight. The regular activities of the salon are drawing to a close, but the real surprise is always saved for last. Next, I will invite your true friends and confidants to my private collection room, where I will find 'rare treasures' that have been collected throughout my life and are enough to overturn the common understanding of ordinary people. This will be a sharing session for the most innermost circle, a... experience beyond the mundane."

His words were so enticing that some of the remaining guests began to whisper among themselves, hesitating whether to leave, while others tried to find an excuse to leave but were politely stopped by the waiters.

But what many others saw in their eyes was curiosity, longing, and even greed.

To be regarded as part of the "inner circle" by Viscount Fairfax and to see his "life's treasures" is undoubtedly a symbol of status and trust, and a ticket to enter a higher circle of power and secrecy.

Victor Hayes was one of the most enthusiastic among them.

His cheeks were flushed with alcohol and excitement, and he gripped Sylvia's arm tightly, his voice trembling with emotion:

"Did you hear that, Sylvia? The Viscount's private collection! This is the real high society! We must go! This is our chance to rise to power!"

Sylvia was pale, her eyes filled with worry and struggle.

She whispered, "Victor, think about it again... Green hasn't returned yet, and the atmosphere here... I feel something's off."

"What do you know?!"

Victor impatiently shook off her hand. "Green? What does that kid know! Is this even within his reach? The opportunity is right in front of us. Are we going to let it slip away because of your cowardice and that outsider's nonsense? I'm the head of the family, and I make the decisions!"

Emily was also standing nearby, her face showing unease. She had already sensed that something was wrong.

She took her mother's arm. "Dad, Mom's right. Should we wait for Green to come back, or... at least ask that lady for her opinion?"

Emily's gaze fell on Clarice to one side.

Clarice's expression turned grave. "Mr. Hayes, the Viscount's invitation is certainly valuable, but perhaps we can wait a moment, or perhaps another day..."

Just then, Green and Alvin, supporting each other and looking somewhat disheveled, rushed back to the banquet hall from the side passageway.

Their appearance immediately drew the attention of the remaining crowd, especially Green's weakened state.

Greene spotted the arguing Hayes family and the smiling Viscount on the stage at a glance, and his heart almost stopped.

He broke free from Alvin's support, staggered to Victor's side, and his voice was hoarse but urgent:

"Uncle! We can't go! We absolutely cannot go anywhere with the Viscount!"

Victor was already furious at being dissuaded by his wife, daughter, and outsiders when Green's sudden appearance and commanding obstruction completely ignited his anger.

He whirled around, his eyes wide, pointed at Green's nose, and spat almost onto Green's face:

"Green Morris! Who do you think you are?! How dare you interfere in the affairs of the Hayes family time and time again! Do you want our family to be forever excluded from the inner circle, forever treated as inferior?! Get out of my way! The affairs of the Hayes family are none of your business, an outsider!"

People with a different surname.

Those three words were like a cold knife, piercing directly into Green's heart. Even though he knew his Uncle Victor had been bewitched, he still felt like a... fool.

Greene turned sharply to his Aunt Sylvia, his eyes filled with pleading and warning: "Aunt! Believe me, down there... down there is something terrible! The Viscount's 'treasure' is a trap! Don't go!"

Sylvia looked at Green's pale face, the fear and undisguised embarrassment in his eyes, and her heart clenched.

She certainly believed that Green wouldn't speak without reason, especially seeing him like this.

Sylvia's lips trembled as she looked at Green, then at her husband, whose face was contorted with anger and who remained stubbornly opinionated. She was torn apart by immense pain and the difficult choice.

Finally, she took a deep breath, walked up to Green, gently took his hand, her eyes filled with tears, and said softly, "Green, my child, I believe you. I know you won't lie to me."

Just as a glimmer of hope rose in Green's heart, Sylvia continued:

"But Victor... he is my husband. Whether it's a trap or hell ahead, since he's decided to go... as his wife, I have no choice but to go with him. This is my choice, and my destiny."

She paused. "And... what if? What if we're just overthinking it? What if the Viscount simply wants to show off his collection? We've already agreed to join the National Unity Party, the Viscount has no reason... no reason to persecute us, right?"

She spoke those last words with absolutely no confidence.

Green's heart sank to the bottom.

He knew that his aunt had made her choice.

A choice based on love, responsibility, and a sliver of hope.

Green cast his last glance at Emily.

Emily looked at the familiar fervor for respectability and climbing the social ladder on her father's face, saw her mother's eyes filled with tears and her body trembling uncontrollably, and saw fear and pleading in Green's eyes.

Obedience by blood, the bond between mother and daughter, and Green's abnormality were all stimulating her 'assassin' instincts.

That instinct was screaming.

"Emily!" Victor shouted sternly when she didn't move. "What are you standing there for? Come with me! Have you forgotten how I taught you?!"

Sylvia looked at her too, her empty eyes filled with pleading.

Those eyes seemed to say: Don't leave me.

Green didn't speak, he just looked at her with a heavy expectation.

Emily's lips moved.

Her assassin's instincts told her to hide, observe, and wait for the right moment. Avoid obvious traps.

But her identity as a daughter cried out from the depths of her soul: They are your parents.

Time flowed by in silence for perhaps only three seconds, yet it felt like an eternity.

Finally, Emily let go of her mother's hand.

She took a step forward, not toward her father, but to stand in that delicate position between her parents and Green.

She looked at Green with a complicated expression.

Then, she turned to her father, Victor, and said in an unexpectedly calm voice, "Dad, I'm going with you and Mom."

Victor's face instantly lit up with victory and satisfaction, as if his daughter's choice was the most powerful affirmation of his authority.

But Emily immediately leaned closer to Green and quickly added, "If anything really goes wrong down there, I... I might be able to help."

These words were spoken softly, but they instantly made Green understand her thoughts.

Emily wasn't ignorant; she knew there might be danger, yet she chose to use her pitiful, newly acquired "assassin" abilities as a last line of defense for her parents.

This is a foolish kind of courage, but also a helpless act of being held hostage by family responsibilities.

"Emily, no..." Green tried to grab her, but his grasp missed.

Emily had already turned around and took her mother's arm again.

She didn't look at Green again, but turned her face away from him, leaving behind her last words:

"I'm optimistic about Sura."

Then, she straightened her back, as if attending a preordained ball, and followed her father, driven by fervor and ambition, and her mother, uneasy but forced to go along, into the crowd lured by the "inner circle" and heading towards the side passage.

Clarice tried to stop them, but two red-clad waiters moved silently, politely but firmly blocking her way.

Olivier isn't here; she can't cause trouble here.